39jeopardize lucrative endorsement deals
or their hard-won place on the team.
But that mind-set has begun to change
in recent years. Spurred by the death of
Trayvon Martin and the fatal shootings of
unarmed African Americans, players in
the NBA and NFL—both leagues made up
predominantly of black men, many from
underserved backgrounds—have started
to speak out in ways that recall an earlier
generation of activist-athletes.
The first steps were tentative—a tweet
of solidarity with Black Lives Matter, a
photo of players in hoodies. But as the
debate over equality, opportunity and
the treatment of minorities in America
grew into a national concern, the stances
have gotten stronger, the gestures bolder.
And so when Kaepernick used his perch
to question whether the nation was liv-
ing up to its ideals, a silent protest was
primed to make a big noise.The caTalysTfor this unlikely culture
war was supposed to have had a quiet sea-
son. Raised by white adoptive parents in
Turlock, Calif., Kaepernick starred at the
University of Nevada before leading the49ers to the Super Bowl in 2013. But in-
juries derailed his fledgling career, and
the former franchise star with a $114 mil-
lion contract found himself relegated to
a backup role. Off the field, Kaepernick’s
interest in the world beyond football ap-
peared to grow, with his social-media
feeds reflecting a rising concern about
social-justice issues, particularly the
fatal shootings of African Americans by
police. After another fraught summer of
racial violence, Kaepernick decided that
the time was right to use a platform avail-
able to few others.
At first, not many people noticed when
he sat on the bench in street clothes dur-
ing the national anthem. But in the third
preseason game, on Aug. 26, Kaepernick
sat down while in uniform. Asked about it
later by a reporter for NFL.com, he didn’t
flinch: “I am not going to stand up to show
pride in a flag for a country that oppresses
black people and people of color,” Kaeper-
nick said. “To me, this is bigger than foot-
ball, and it would be selfish on my part to
look the other way. There are bodies in the
street and people getting paid leave and
getting away with murder.”
The criticism came hard and fast. Steve
King, a Republican Congressman from
Iowa, said that Kaepernick was “under-
mining patriotism” and that his activism
was “sympathetic to ISIS.” The Santa
Clara, Calif., police union threatened to
boycott 49ers games. A mattress store in
suburban Chicago turned his jersey into
a doormat. “I don’t want him anywhere
near my team,” an anonymous NFL execu-
tive told Bleacher Report. “He’s a traitor.”
An exchange with Nate Boyer, a for-
mer Green Beret who briefly played in the
NFL, prompted Kaepernick to modify his
protest from sitting out to taking a knee
as a way to acknowledge the significance
of the anthem while still making his point
clear. The change only complicated the
debate. Kneeling is an act of humility, a
way to diminish the self in the presenceof something larger. Doing so before the
national anthem can turn its performance
from a rote observance into a deeper ex-
amination of its meaning. “He has estab-
lished a posture of saying he’s down on
his knees pleading for America to live up
to its preachments,” says the Rev. Amos
Brown, a civil rights leader in San Fran-
cisco. “And if people in this nation can’t
get it and don’t like it, it reflects how rac-
ist, how unkind, how narrow, how xeno-
phobic and how sick-souled they are.”
Plenty of measured critics say Kae-
pernick has chosen the wrong venue for
his protest. “For those who don’t like
standing because they disagree with
what America has done, stand and pay
it forward for what you think America
should do,” retired Army General Martin
Dempsey wrote inUSA Today.
Others think the stage could not be
better suited. The anthem’s lyrics—an
ode to America’s promise, along with
questions about whether it’s living up
to it—can be read both as a tribute to
the nation’s ideals and an invitation to
challenge them. And doing the latter
before an audience of millions watching
on TV is a particularly bold act, says
John Carlos, a former track-and-field
star whose own protest on the medal
platform at the 1968 Olympics was seen
by some as a similar affront. “Where else
is he going to make a statement where
he’s going to reach the far ends of the
earth?” Carlos says.
A number of NFL players have taken
up Kaepernick’s cause. On Sept. 1, his
teammate Eric Reid knelt alongside him
while Seattle Seahawks cornerback Jer-
emy Lane sat out in solidarity. Soon a
group text-message chain formed among
more than 70 NFL players debating how
they should respond. Denver Broncos
linebacker Brandon Marshall knelt dur-
ing the anthem on Sept. 8, the NFL’s
opening night—a stance that cost him
two endorsement deals. Three days later,
on the 15th anniversary of Sept. 11, four
members of the Miami Dolphins knelt,
and Kansas City Chiefs defensive back
Marcus Peters raised his fist during the
song, while New England Patriots Mar-
tellus Bennett and Devin McCourty did
the same after the anthem was finished.
“If you see something you feel is wrong in
society, why not help out? Why not try to
raise awareness?” says McCourty.‘AT SOME POINT, TWITTER
HASHTAGS AREN’T
ENOUGH. EVENTUALLY,
YOU HAVE TO STAND UP.’OPENING PAGES: AP; THESE PAGES: DEAN RUTZ—THE SEATTLE TIMES —KENNY STILLS, MIAMI DOLPHINS